


The Price of Pleasure

by mydeira



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 15:31:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/901915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydeira/pseuds/mydeira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dawn's night with Spike isn't all it seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price of Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

> Written for db2305 in the Dawnficathon challenge by Green (on LiveJournal in late 2003, I think) who requested Dawn/Spike dark, post-S7 and no: death, rape, or fluff. Dedicated to my awesome beta Savvy and to Subway where I came up with the idea over lunch.

Dawn smiled in feminine contentment when she felt the body next to her stir, drawing her closer.  After all of these years, to finally wake up and find herself not alone, that it all hadn’t been a childish dream . . .  When she had called Wolfram & Hart to see if Wesley was sending the books Giles needed and a familiar voice answered, one that she knew she shouldn’t be hearing, Dawn knew she finally had her chance.  A slim chance, but one she had to take.

 

“Morning, pet,” the voice behind her purred, a welcome interruption to her thoughts.  “Sleep well?”

 

“Eventually,” she said, turning to her companion with a wicked grin.

 

“Now what possibly could have kept you from sleeping?” Spike asked with mock concern, blue eyes dancing with mischief.

 

“I think it was the bed.  Must have been lumpy or something, I just couldn’t seem to get comfortable in one spot for too long,” she blinked innocently.  “I think I wore myself out finally with all of that _tossing_ and _turning_.”

 

“Tossing and turning?  Is that what you kids are calling it these days?”

 

“By kids you mean everyone under the age of eighty?”

 

“Hey now!” he said, hurt.

 

“Aw, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” she said, everything about her stating completely the opposite.

 

“If you feel that badly about it, you could always make it up to me,” he quirked and eyebrow suggestively. 

 

Dawn was on him in a moment, pinning him as she sat astride his chest.  “I am sorry,” she said with a touch of sincerity.

 

“Hm,” Spike considered a moment.  “Not sure as I completely believe you.  Guess you’ll just have to show me.”

 

“I supposed I can manage th—aaagh!” Dawn found herself rolled over and no longer in a position of power.  Not that she minded.

 

“Or maybe I’ll show you,” he grinned devilishly, bending down to devour her mouth.

 

She smiled into the kiss as he broke away and began to work his way down, stopping briefly at her neck, tongue tracing against her pulse.  She gasped when he increased the pressure.

 

“Like that?”

 

“A little,” she struggled to keep her voice calm.

 

“Only a little?  Hmm,” he did it again, followed but a light nibble off to the side.  That earned him a moan.  “Now I know you liked that.”

 

“Mm, hm,” she managed as he continued he descent.  Down, ever-slowly down he went until he reached the one place that could grant her as much torture as pleasure.  This was definitely worth everything.  Most definitely. 

 

Not until he had her whimpering with his ministrations did Spike finally move back up to join her.

 

“I think you’re sorry enough now,” he growled as he entered her.

 

“So—sorry,” she gasped.  Reclaiming some conscious thought, Dawn began to nibble lightly at the scar near the base of his neck, eliciting a groan from him.  “Very—very—sorry.”

 

When he kissed her again, all thought fled.

 

 

 

Reluctantly Dawn disentangled herself.

 

“Already?” he pouted, sprawled luxuriously against the bed.

 

“I’m running late as it is,” she said sadly, wiggling into her pants and shirt.  Grabbing the brush from her purse, she began to brush out her hair.

 

“You don’t know what a vision you are,” Spike said with awe.

 

Dawn paused, and looked at him.

 

“Bloody amazing,” he added.

 

“Oh?” she asked quietly, looking down at the floor, not trusting herself to look at him.

 

“You are,” he affirmed.

 

She forced herself to smile at him, then went back to her purse.  She rummaged around for a few moments.  Finally finding what she was looking for, Dawn heaved a heavy sigh.  There was no turning back.  Everything had a price.

 

“Pet?  Buffy, luv, are you alright?” he asked with concerned.

 

She froze.  Maybe she hadn’t heard right.  She _hoped_ she hadn’t heard right.

 

“Slayer, what’s wrong?” he asked again, more insistent. 

 

Dawn looked up at the mirror.  A woman with golden hair and hazel eyes looked back.  Dawn grimaced; the woman grimaced.

 

She looked over her shoulder at him.  “Nothing.  I’m fine,” she said lightly.  “Just wi—would like to be able to stay longer.”  Wish, she was going to say wish, but had caught herself.  That was a lesson hard learned.  Dawn knew that the best-intentioned wishes always backfired.   Anya might have been able to help had she still been alive but . . . Dawn pushed away the memory, now was not the time to think back.  Regardless, she had found a solution on her own.  And temporary as it was, it would be enough.

 

Dawn felt his arms wrap around her, pulling her close.  Alone in the mirror, Buffy gazed back sadly.  Dawn leaned into the embrace, eyes closing, blocking the lie from her sight.

 

“Would come with you if I could,” he whispered, nuzzling her neck.

 

“I know,” she replied.

 

“When will you be back?”

 

“Soon, very soon.”  It wasn’t a lie.

 

She turned in his arms, opening her eyes to look at Spike once more.  His blue eyes were dark with emotion laid naked.  If only it was her he looked at with such love.  For a while she had been able to pretend.  She leaned in and gave him one last languid kiss, then broke away for the final time.

 

Picking up her purse, Dawn made her way to the door.

 

“Thank you,” she said, glancing back.  “I really am sorry.”

 

Spike looked at her in confusion.

 

“ _Obliviscere,_ ” she whispered.

 

He didn’t hear the door click closed after her.

 

Dawn leaned against the door.  She had known what she was getting into.  Still, she had almost been able to believe. Until he said _her_ name with the truth staring back at Dawn in the mirror.  She had known it was a lie, a lie she had created, but it still hurt.  It wasn’t Dawn he wanted, nor would she ever be what he wanted.  That was the price after all. 

 

“ _Volta retege vera_ ,” she recited.  Flipping open her compact, Dawn gave herself a nod.

 

Facing the door, Dawn knocked.

 

“I’ll be there in a minute, keep your knickers on,” was the muffled reply.  A minute later, Spike opened the door.  “You’re late, Bit.”

 

“Better late than never,” she forced a smile.


End file.
